The Changeling
by gildedirises
Summary: Siobhan O'Brien always felt lost and alone as she drifted from one foster home to the next, but when one of her teacher's offers her some special instruction she meets the demon, Al, and becomes embroiled in a dark plot that threatens her very soul.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Hollows series owes its creative genius to Kim Harrison. I am simply borrowing her setting and characters for some free entertainment. This story contains spoilers for the latest Hollows novel, Pale Demon.

Chapter 1

"Freak!" The girl's voice seemed to echo over the quad like a megaphone, followed by the taunting catcalls from her posse. "Go back to wherever you came from!"

Siobhan O'Brien didn't even wince anymore at things like this. She kept her head down and the hood of her sweatshirt up, pretending not to have heard. The hoots and taunts continued behind her as if she'd passed through a tribe of angry Howler monkeys instead of her fellow Juniors at her new high school. And like their monkey brethren, these girls were professionals at slinging shit. But as calm and uncaring as she seemed to the outside world, Siobhan shivered with a swirl of emotion on the inside. Blazing anger seemed to light through her, drawn up from the very ground she walked on and trembling at the tips of her fingers as if they wanted to take action on their own. "Fuck you, bitch," she hissed softly on her exhale, pushing the anger out as she'd practiced many times before. A swirl of wind rushed away from her, scattering dead leaves in a mini tornado that buffeted her fellow students passing close to her but quickly faded without any power or focus of its own.

All of this would become just another faded memory in a lifetime of different schools, different homes, and different foster parents. Nothing mattered until she reached eighteen and started a permanent life for herself. She'd have a place of her own, even if she had to live on the very outskirts of Cincinnati where only the bravest humans dared to tread since the Turn. She'd at least have space for pets - dogs, cats and, especially horses. And she'd go riding every day, far from all of this, under the cool shade of an old growth forest. Perhaps she'd even meet someone there who shared her loneliness and her love of wild things. Someone who would finally understand her...

Her daydream abruptly ended when Siobhan ran smack into someone who'd just stepped out of a nearby classroom. Her legs tangled with theirs and her heavy backpack overbalanced and would have sent her crashing to the ground except for two strong hands that grabbed her shoulders and steadied her. Her wide green eyes rose to view the person she'd accidentally run into.

"Ms. O'Brien, I hope this means you were rushing to get to my class and not bent on taking me out."

Siobhan turned bright red to the roots of her strawberry blond hair. It was her gorgeous chorus teacher, Randall Smith. His dark green eyes seemed to capture her gaze and her only thought was that he must have just finished teaching the PE classes he did to warrant a full time job as a teacher because his soft blond hair was clinging wetly to his neck. Her eyes followed a drop of water that slowly traced a path down the curve of his tanned neck like a watery caress.

"Ms. O'Brien?" His earlier teasing tone dropped to a more serious note when she failed to answer. He shook her gently before letting her go. "You okay?"

If she could have flushed any brighter, Siobhan would have. Her eyes dove back to the ground where everything was safer and she cleared her throat. "S-sorry, Mr. Smith."

"Hi, Randy," Beth Howard purred as she sashayed past. She was a senior in Siobhan's chorus class and thought she was God's Gift to Washington High. All the girls called Mr. Smith Randy when referring to him, but few were brave enough to use the name to his face. And none of them had any reason to suspect that he could live up to their pet name except in their wildest dreams. He was generally cool and aloof in and out of the classroom. But when he sang, Siobhan melted on the inside like a candy bar on the sidewalk during a hot summer day. From the gossip of the other girls, she assumed they felt the same way. He could have taken advantage of that fact, but he never did. The girls preferred to think he was playing hard to get and the boys all thought he was gay.

She took a moment to breathe in deeply before she stepped back. Pheromones, after shave, cologne - she didn't know what he wore but she loved the smell.

"S'alright," he said, a smile warmly coloring his voice. "I'll walk with you."

Since Siobhan was trying to stick to her eyes-down approach to life, she watched his dress shoes turn around and face in the direction she'd been heading. Unfortunately, that meant she now had a view of Beth's rear, tightly clad in designer jeans, performing what she would normally assume was a bee's dance to signal where the honey was. She sighed. And they called her the freak.

"I'm going to be casting the parts for our Holiday Concert," Mr. Smith mentioned casually. "I hope you'll try out for a solo."

"Uh-" Siobhan replied in her most articulate fashion. Why the crap did she always forget how to speak around him?

"You have a beautiful voice," Mr. Smith said softly, in a voice pitched so that no one else could hear.

Siobhan looked up to find him smiling down at her and blushed yet again. She knew her voice was good. Chorus was one of the few things she enjoyed at every school she'd ever attended. She loved to sing and was routinely complimented on her voice. But to hear him say so when she thought he sang like an angel was the highest compliment she'd ever gotten. "Thank you," she whispered, not trusting her voice to speak louder.

They must be close to the auditorium they practiced in, because they'd picked up a flock of teenage girls who swirled around Mr. Smith like brightly-colored butterflies. Siobhan dropped back, more comfortable in the background. There was a series of risers arranged atop a small stage in front of enough seats to hold the entire school population. The other members of the chorus class were scattered among the seats in small pockets, killing time as the waited for class to start. Siobhan walked past them as though she drifted in a fog, unwilling to make eye contact or draw attention to herself in any way.

A leg across the steps leading down stopped her forward progress and the hot anger rose within her again. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? She reluctantly raised her eyes to take in the young man leaning against one of the audience seats with his leg thrust out to block her path.

"Is there a problem?" Charles Phillips taunted with a smile, as though he had no idea why she had stopped in front of him. The two young men with him snickered nastily.

"Can you move your leg so I can get by?" she asked quietly.

"No."

Her hands clenched into fists and her teeth ground together.

Charles stood up to completely block her path. The difference in their heights was cancelled by her position on the higher step. He looked her up and down with a calculating slowness. "Not until you show me what's under that jacket you're always wearing…" He ran his tongue suggestively across his lower lip.

Her simple forest green jacket was a hand me down from one of her previous foster families, a warm, bulky darkness that completely enveloped her. Several sizes too large and fairly shapeless after countless washings it was meant more as a camouflage than a fashion statement. One of Siobhan's hands went to the small opening at the top of the zipper and clenched it closed.

Charles moved closer, joining her on her step so he could look down at her. "See my friends and I have a bet. They think you're hiding under that to conceal some deformity or something." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky pitch. His finger traced the air, following the line of her jacket's zipper. "I think you have rocking hot body under there that's just waiting for the right guy to unveil it." His hand flicked the edge of her jacket off her head.

Freed from the confines of her hood, her soft reddish blond hair drifted free as though on a gentle breeze of its own. Though she was not directly in contact with the ground, she felt the heat and power of something just outside her grasp, something she could use to knock Charles on his ass and make sure he and his friends never bothered her again. Her hands dropped to her sides and her fingers splayed wide as something more than anger seemed to fill her with power. The noise in the room had ended abruptly when Charles touched her and she could feel all those eyes watching her, adding to her anger. It was like an old west gunfight and if she didn't take decisive action, she'd find herself mortally wounded and unable to defend herself ever again.

"That's enough," came the soft, decisive command behind her. She turned to see Mr. Smith on the step behind her, his green eyes almost black beneath his blond bangs as he directed his gaze first at her and then at Charles. She'd never heard or felt him approach and there was an edginess to his soft command that frightened her more than many of the screaming rants she'd heard in the past. Siobhan took a deep breath and felt the power drain away.

Charles stepped back and turned sideways, clearing the path for her. His brown eyes were downcast and his jaw clenched in frustration.

"Alright, people, let's get this show on the road!" Mr. Smith spoke loudly to the entire room, as if nothing had happened. The students pulled themselves reluctantly from their seats and headed up on stage. "Don't forget that Trent Kalamack is one of our big corporate sponsors this year and that a few of you will be selected to tour his property."

A new swell of noise accompanied this reminder, teenage girls sharing gossip about Cincinnati's most eligible bachelor who'd dropped out of sight in recent weeks.

"You remember when the papers broke the story that he was arrested at his own wedding?" one of the girls said to her friend as she passed Siobhan.

One of Charles' friends nudged him with a shoulder as they headed down the stairs, too. "I heard the fiancée caught him in flagrante delicto with Rachel Morgan."

"Sweet."

Siobhan pulled her hood back up and tugged the drawstring tighter. Most of her fellow students were jostling into their normal positions on the risers.

Mr. Smith stepped down next to her. "You have a gift. You shouldn't waste it on nobody's like him."

Siobhan frowned, not sure what he meant, but knowing that he'd spoken so only she could hear. A gift? She shook her head in confusion and followed him to the stage.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Siobhan rode the bus every day after school, since her foster mother, Susan Green, couldn't be bothered to pick her up and the chance she'd get a driver's license, much less a car, was just about nil. But today was Thursday and instead of the quick trip across town to their condo, Siobhan was looking forward to her twice weekly visit to Oakwood Farm. She'd volunteered there almost as soon as they moved here and the owners, Mark and Mary Shain, had hired her on for as many hours as she could work.

She breathed a grateful sigh to step off the bus. Not that it was crowded anymore, since the ridership dropped off to almost nothing this close to the edge of town, but that they seemed to love to blast the heaters until she found herself unzipping her jacket and fanning herself to prevent overheating. It was decidedly brisk outside, but she found it invigorating as she crunched over dried grass, following a dirt track that led to the farm.

She'd heard her fellow students refer to the fringes of Cincinnati as creepy, but most of them seemed averse to any non-human encounters. Having lived in mostly human communities all her life, Siobhan confessed to herself a heightened curiosity about the Inderlanders. She liked that they were different and proud of it. She'd always tried to hide the things that made her different.

A crow cawed angrily at her from its tree branch, surrounded by a swirl of red and gold leaves, showing off their last glory before falling to join their companions in the increasingly large piles at the base of the trees. A cold wind whispered through the trees and sent the fallen leaves skittering across her path. Amidst the normal sounds of the forest, she thought she heard the buzz of dragonfly wings and she sensed someone was watching her. She heard the distant whinny of a horse and stepped her pace up to a jog.

The chain link paddocks came into view just off the track on her right, with the larger white buildings of the barns and indoor arena in the background. The horses were enjoying a run in the open pasture, but part of her job would be rounding them up and putting them safely to bed in the heated barn. Some of the younger ones, especially the mares and stallions, would be full of energy and would try to give her a hard time. She pulled the apple from her lunch out of her pocket along with some carrots and jumped to the top of the metal gate.

Siobhan's piercing whistle cut across the chilly air and the horses' heads rose in unison, their big brown eyes looking her over. She waved the treats and the older horses started to amble over. From the far end of the paddock came a loud neigh of greeting, then the sound of hoof beats approaching rapidly. Shaitan was a startling white and red paint gelding with attitude to spare. He wasn't big for a horse that had competed in eventing in his youth, just over 16 hands, but he still had a lot of muscle stretched over his powerful frame. He trotted over to her and stood sideways, blocking the other horses from the treats, pushing his warm soft face into her chest and nosing her hands for his treat.

She gave him the apple, although Mary constantly reminded her not to reward Shaitan for his bad behavior. Siobhan couldn't help loving the selfish, beautiful thing because he seemed so lonely. Mary told her it was because he liked to be a loner, and he drove the other horses off with his attitude, but Siobhan sensed there was more to it than that. She just felt if she could befriend him then she could somehow make things better for him. After all, she knew what it was like to be lonely. It sucked.

Shaitan flattened his ears and bared his teeth as the others approached, but she shoved him off with her foot against his shoulder and leaned over to give half a carrot to the beautiful chestnut mare named Holly. This paddock was for the retirees, horses who had their best years in the ring, on the course or over the track behind them. Mary felt they were the best horses for beginners to learn on, as long as they didn't have Shaitan's attitude. But all of these horses were privileged to retire in such luxury, allowed to live out the end of their days thanks to the Kalamack Foundation.

Siobhan reached out with her other hand to rub soft noses and scratch beneath shaggy manes as she dispensed the rest of the treats to her admirers. That was the second time today she'd thought about this Kalamack guy. Who the heck was he anyway? Some rich philanthropist? A billionaire playboy? A politician? She wrinkled her nose in distaste. Didn't sound that great to her…

Shaitan whistled and tossed his head, pawing at the ground. She looked up in the direction he was facing and saw Mary riding over on Guardian, a beautiful bay gelding in his prime. Guardian's long legs moved smoothly over the ground as if he was gliding and Mary sat upright and unmoving on his back as if she was sitting in a chair. Mary smiled and directed the bay over to Siobhan with the lightest touch of reins and feet. Mary and Guardian looked like they were meant for one another and the only way the picture could have been more perfect was if they were dressed out for a show.

"Want a lift?" Mary asked, leaning over to offer Siobhan her arm. Siobhan slid on behind her, her hands loose on Mary's waist as she gripped the big horse with her legs. Mary must have worked him out on their cross-country run because Guardian was winded and covered in sweat. But Mary seemed as immaculate as ever, her dark brown hair drawn back in a gleaming bun and her coat and britches unmarked by the ride.

Siobhan closed her eyes and breathed in the odor of cinnamon, similar to the way her chorus teacher smelled, but uniquely different, too. She knew of several colognes that bragged about smelling like cinnamon, but most of the ones she could afford tried too hard to smell like a cinnamon roll. This was something different. It was rich and dark and woodsy, with a tone that struck through her like a deep bell tolling. She sighed. Perhaps one day she'd get the courage to ask Mary what she wore.

They passed Megan and Glen unloading supplies from the back of a pickup truck, tossing hay bales and bags of feed around as if they weighed nothing. Siobhan silently admired Glen's broad shoulders and powerful arms on display in his sweaty tank top, and his jeans-clad rear wasn't too bad either. She blushed and ducked her head when they both looked up from their task and waved.

"Hi guys," Mary called, "Did you pick up the prescriptions from the vet's office?"

Megan held up a bag in one hand and a box of vials in the other.

Mary nodded and walked Guardian up to the barn where she and Siobhan slid down to the ground. Mary handed Siobhan the reins. "Have Eric take care of Guardian," she said as she glanced outside, gauging the hour and the amount of sun left in the day. "It's getting dark early and I want all the old timers in their stalls before sundown." Mary smiled to take the edge off the order then turned and headed toward the house, pulling her cell phone from her jacket pocket.

Siobhan saw Eric on the far end of the barn, coming out of Ruby's stall. "Hey Eric!" she called, waving to get his attention. Guardian snorted in her ear, then rubbed his face against her back.

Eric was a witch. He was the first Inderlander she'd gotten to know. While he looked like he was in his twenties, she knew enough about witches to know he'd live twice as long as a human and could easily be 2 or 3 times her age. His straight black hair was kept long and worn in a braid. His dark eyes reflected his smile when he looked at her. He held several charms in his hands, large pieces of carved wood big enough to work on horses. He smelled faintly of redwood that mixed nicely with the smell of leather, the horses and the barn.

"Hey, Siobhan. Looks like Mary's done with her ride." He moved toward her and took the reins from her hand.

"She wanted you to cool him off and clean him up while I get started on the old timers."

Guardian was snuffling at her pocket where the treats had been. She gently pushed his nose away.

"He really likes you, Siobhan. All the horses do. You have a gift."

She frowned.

"What's the matter?" Eric asked, noticing her darkened expression.

"It's nothing – it's just… That's the second time someone has said that to me today. The gift thing." She shrugged. "I don't get it."

Eric smiled, not looking directly at her as he patted the horse's strong neck. "Well, I'm not sure about the other reference, but the gift I'm referring to is the way you get along so well with all the horses. I think horses are like people. They each have their own personality - likes, dislikes. They're complicated creatures. But they connect to you. They trust you." He did look at her, serious. "It's like you put a spell on them."

She sighed. "Yeah, right." She shook her head and looked away. "I wish I was like you. I wish I did have magical powers…"

"Humans can learn ley line magic, you know."

"If I tried anything like that Susan would kick me out faster than you can say 'Bye,bye.'" She stuffed her hands deep in her pockets. "I don't want to change foster homes again. I kind of like it here."

Eric looked away again, moving off with Guardian in tow. "Well, let me know if you change your mind."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Sorry," Siobhan mumbled for what felt like the hundredth time into the warm moist heat of Susan's car, toeing the wet floormat under her sneakers. She kept her gaze directed out the window at the rainy October night and tried to tune out Susan's rant.

"I just don't understand why the school needs to have any activities at night." Susan didn't even glance over at Siobhan, but the entire conversation was intended to be one-sided anyway. "And to make parent participation mandatory just seems very high-handed to me."

It didn't matter how much of this Siobhan had to listen to, it mattered that she was actually in the car on the way to the chorus tryouts for the Holiday Performance. She caught the reflection of her own secret smile in the wet glass. It had been a close one. She was pretty sure she'd lost the opportunity to attend the tryouts, when she threw out the Trent Kalamack thing.

"What?" Susan had snapped, like a dog catching a whiff of her prey.

"Five kids and their families who participate in the concert get to tour the Kalamack estate and meet Mr. Kalamack," Siobhan had said, staring down at her dinner plate as she pushed around the tasteless takeout Susan insisted on ordering. She'd glanced up at Susan through the red-gold curtain of her hair. She could almost see the dollar signs in the woman's eyes, like some cartoon character on the make.

"Trent Kalamack?" Susan had said, speculatively.

"He's some sort of corporate sponsor, I guess…"

"He might even be at this tryout thing tonight," Susan had continued, getting up from the table to change her clothes.

"I doubt it," Siobhan had responded, but nothing she had said for the rest of the night seemed to get through Susan's preoccupation.

Siobhan glanced at her foster mother. Susan seemed too young to have qualified as her foster mother, somewhere in her early thirties. Siobhan sensed that any real data about her age was kept well guarded. In the six months they had been together, Susan hadn't had a birthday or even mentioned one. The woman was immaculately groomed, but in a frosty, brittle sort of way. Susan's face was quite attractive and Siobhan might have considered her beautiful if Susan had ever produced anything more than a stilted smile. She just didn't seem to care about anyone beyond herself and didn't even seem to really like kids. So why on earth had she signed up as a foster parent?

Susan tapped the brakes a little hard as a streetlight turned red and Siobhan found her attention drawn to the couple crossing the street in front of them. They both looked human, until the man laughed at something the woman said and exposed a set of unnaturally sharp canines. Siobhan's eyes grew round with excitement. She might have just seen her first vampire!

"Oh, would you look at that!" Susan cried in outrage. "That's what I'm talking about! They let those – things – roam all over the city after dark. It's not safe! Exactly what is the FIB doing with my tax dollars?"

Siobhan's eyes tracked the man's movements through the rain. He seemed to move with an unearthly grace, like a dancer. The woman he was with seemed enthralled with him. Siobhan wondered if he was a living or undead vampire. She wondered if he was taking the woman somewhere so he could drink her blood. Siobhan shivered.

"I certainly hope your school has the good sense not to let any of _those_ people in to their events."

Siobhan had heard similar sentiments from Susan in the past. In fact, when she'd enrolled Siobhan at Washington High, she made a point of picking the school with the highest reputation for humans-only enrollment. Siobhan was amazed they could get away with that kind of blatant discrimination. It wasn't the first time she'd met humans who wanted to role the clock back to pre-Turn times. Back before the deadly T4 Angel virus turned a harmless tomato into a death bringer for a large proportion of the human population. Heck, some humans wanted to bring back witch trials and vampire or werewolf hunts to reduce the Inderlander population in a similar fashion.

"How would they know, anyway?" Siobhan asked as the car started moving again.

"What?" Susan actually responded to her question.

"How can you tell if they're human or not?"

Susan stared at her gape-mouthed. "My God, girl, where were you raised? Of course you can tell us humans from those creatures!"

"Not everyone with pointy teeth is a vampire. And unless they're transformed, I'd think werewolves look just like us…"

"I can't even believe you're asking me this! It's a wonder you haven't been snatched up by some bloodsucker already! Do you know what they'd do to a sweet young thing like you? Turn you into one of their ghouls! You'd become a mindless blood bank who lived to please her vampire master."

Siobhan thought that the girl with the man in the crosswalk hadn't looked like a ghoul. She sighed and looked back out the window as Susan's tirade turned to all Inderlanders and their crimes against humanity. No one ever gave her a straight answer about being able to tell the difference. There were lots of wild rumors around about it. She blushed when she remembered one of the girl's at school commenting on the sad lack of equipment on her former witch boyfriend. But like pointy canines, not everyone with a small, uh, you know, was going to be a male witch. And it's not like you could ask them to drop their shorts before you allowed them to attend school events. Heck, she was probably going to school with secret Inderlanders every day. Isn't that how they survived for thousands of years living among humans? She decided to wait for Susan to go to sleep and sneak on the internet tonight to look for more information. It was the only way she got near the computer unless she could prove she had a school assignment.

They pulled slowly into the school parking lot amidst about twenty or thirty other parked cars and people darting from their cars to the buildings to get out of the rain. It was really coming down now, rapping out a loud percussion on the roof of Susan's little red Corolla. Susan always had a lot of prep time before she got out of the car, checking her makeup, straightening her outfit, and, in this case, trying to unfurl her umbrella in such a way that she didn't get a drop of rain on her. Siobhan waited for Susan to open her own door before she got out dashed across the parking lot to join the crowd outside the auditorium. It was a cold, heavy rain that quickly soaked Siobhan's jacket even at this short distance. She was going to have to take it off and hang it up to dry. She gritted her teeth. It wouldn't feel right to have to perform without her jacket that so often doubled as a shield/security blanket from the world.

Siobhan pushed through the crowd and slipped inside the entry hall, darting and weaving like a fish swimming upstream. Considering how much liquid was on the floor it was a fitting analogy. She found the row of coat racks and picked the one furthest from the crowd, putting it between her and the people.

She felt like a stripper as she slowly peeled off the wet jacket. Where she should have felt anonymous in the crowd, instead she felt strangely exposed, like someone was watching her. Her gaze swept the crowd until they fell on a young man leaning casually against the wall across the entry hall. He was tall and handsome, dressed all in grey. The military cut of his jacket contrasted nicely with his tan complexion, dark eyes and dark brown hair, slicked back off his forehead in an effort to control the curls. He was staring right at her. She blushed furiously and held her coat up in front of her.

Siobhan didn't recognize him and he was too old to attend Washington High as a student. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She was scared, but she felt something else, too. It wasn't like how that jerk, Charles, made her feel. She didn't want to punch his face in or run away. She was strangely – excited.

He quirked an eyebrow and a faint smirk turned up his full lips. His black gaze was intense and she felt it warm her as she stared back. Her arms slowly dropped to her sides as his eyes roved over her. It wasn't the lustful checking out she would have expected but as though he was assessing something of value. She felt the tingling sensation creep over her that she normally associated with anger, but this was altogether different, wild and wanton. It took her breath away as it seemed to swirl around inside her. She tipped her chin up and straightened her shoulders, as if challenging him to examine her thoroughly.

The young man pushed off the wall like he was going to approach her. His smile widened to show flat, even white teeth. He reached up to his neckline and began unbuttoning his jacket.

"What are you doing?" Susan hissed from behind her. "The rain made your shirt practically see through!"

Siobhan stared for a moment at her foster mother as if she didn't comprehend what she was saying, and then she looked down at the white blouse she'd been wearing under her coat. The wet material clung greedily to her large breasts, the lace of her bra clearly visible through the material. And the way she'd been standing was like she was showing it off for the young man who'd been watching her. Her arms came back up to cover herself and she shivered, but not from the cold.

"Here, take this, love," a voice in a cultured British accent offered.

Siobhan turned to see the young man holding out his beautiful grey coat to her. It had a subtle tweed pattern, with a high collar and bright silver buttons. It looked like it cost a fortune from some designer clothing store. Beneath it he was wearing a silvery grey sweater tucked into elegant grey dress slacks. His suede gloves matched his shoes. He looked like a model. Siobhan just stared.

His smile was friendly enough, but up close his eyes were almost black and they stared at Siobhan with an intensity she'd never experienced before. She shivered again, not moving to accept his jacket.

"Thank you, sir, you are too kind," Susan interjected, pushing between them. Siobhan caught a flash of red in his dark eyes and his lip curled in the slightest of snarls before his features smoothed out and he smiled at Susan.

Siobhan's breath hitched. Her mental defenses were on full alert. She felt like she was standing next to a wild animal, yet she didn't seem to be able to move. She didn't know if she could trust what she was seeing. She realized she hadn't even heard what they were saying when she felt Susan thrust the jacket into her numb hands.

"Silly girl, cover yourself up before you catch something," Susan admonished.

That black gaze was focused on her again, slightly mocking. He took the coat from her outstretched hands. "Allow me," he offered, arranging the jacket so the soft wool slipped easily over her outstretched arm. He stepped around behind her, so close, but never touching her. He breathed in deeply as he moved behind her, his warm breath stirring her loose hair around her neck.

The strange wild heat burned through her again, racing from where his breath touched her to the pool of energy stirring deep inside her. He seemed to breathe life into her. Her eyes followed him as he moved around her. When his gloved hand finally touched her hand to move her arm into the other sleeve she jumped when she felt the surging energy inside her seem to rush toward him with a will of its own. She'd experienced a static shock from touching someone before and this was nothing like that.

His black eyes came up to meet her stare and she thought she caught that flash of color again in their depths, as if a fire burned within him. He brought her hand to his lips and brushed a soft kiss on the back of her hand before releasing her. The touch of his lips sent the heat surging back through her as if he gave her back the energy she'd inadvertently given him. "A pleasure to meet you, Siobhan Katherine O'Brien," he murmured quietly, barely above a whisper. "I can't wait for tonight's performance." And the grin he offered as he stepped back was decidedly wicked.

"Siobhan!" A familiar voice seemed to call for her from very far away. She dragged her gaze from the dark stranger and scanned the room to see where it was coming from. It was Mr. Smith, waving his arms from the backstage entrance as he tried to round up the other hopefuls from chorus.

"How -?" Siobhan looked back in confusion at her foster mother as Susan moved to follow the stranger into the crowd that was now moving into the theater.

Susan paused, annoyed that she was losing sight of the young man in the crowd. "I'm going in. You'd better go. They are calling for you." She waved vaguely toward Mr. Smith then retreated into the auditorium with the other family members.

"How did he know my name?" Siobhan wondered quietly. She pulled the collar of the borrowed jacket up to her nose and breathed in deeply as she turned to join the last of her classmates heading backstage. At first she smelled only new mown grass and green things, but then she caught the whiff of something dark and dangerous. It sent an unexpected thrill through her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

They stood in a press behind the dark curtains, eager whispers flowing around her, and then the tense silence as each was called to give their performance. Siobhan pressed her hand to her forehead, feeling warm and lightheaded as if she had a high fever. She closed her eyes and the music seemed to swirl through her mind, drawing up the pool of energy inside her and lighting her mind with every note. The music was more alive than she ever remembered it being, like it was speaking to her in another language, one only she could understand.

Siobhan exhaled slowly, trying to push out the cord tight tension building inside her, but when she drew in a cleansing breath, it came to her rich in that otherworldly scent coming off the jacket she wore. Her knees felt weak and her head swam, but somehow the music held her up. The energy within her seemed to expand with each passing minute, stretching her tight and making her burn. She didn't know how much longer she could stand it.

"Siobhan O'Brien will perform Bring Me to Life from Evanescence," Mr. Smith announced from the stage. One of the girls near her nudged her when she didn't respond.

Siobhan stepped out onto the brightly lit stage, taking a moment to gather herself as her vision tried to adjust. She moved to the center of the stage where a single microphone was set up. Mr. Smith sat behind her on a bench next to a second microphone, positioned to catch the sound of his piano which he'd been using to accompany the performances. He smiled encouragingly and gestured for her to begin when she was ready.

Siobhan looked out into the audience, easily making out the other teachers who were helping to judge the tryouts. Her eyes swept back to the almost faceless forms further back, her fellow classmates who'd already performed and their families. And then she saw him, the young man who had loaned her the coat she was still wearing. He was in the last row of seats, under a dark overhang. In this light and from the distance he was just a dark outline, but she knew it was him. Her cheeks flushed and her heart seemed to pound within her.

She nodded slightly to show she was ready to begin and Mr. Smith began playing the first notes of the song she had picked for this event. "How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?" she pleaded softly, her eyes fixed on the dark figure. But as the music swelled, so did the power inside her and her voice belted out over the audience, pouring out her pain and loneliness. Power seemed to flow from her in waves, rushing out toward the stranger.

"Wake me up inside! Call my name and save me from the dark," she begged through the song. And as if the words changed everything, she could see him clearly in the dark, his black eyes glowing with that red fire, his expression intense, his hands weaving strange symbols over a silver button in his gloved hand, a red haze shifted over everything before he brought the button to his lips and whispered something.

She felt the power coiled inside her soar to burning heights. She shifted her stance, balanced on one leg so the other could slide forward, putting her closer to the microphone as if it were a lover. She raised her arms to trace the outline of her figure beneath the coat, and then lifted them higher to her mass of red-gold hair, lifting it from her shoulders and letting it fall like a silken cape. Her body moved to the words she sang, slow and sinuous, pulsing with her new found power. She sang for him, her dark stranger, her voice a tribute and a plea. She sang as if there was no one else in the room, or in the entire world.

She knew in some distant part of her mind that she wasn't singing Evanescence anymore, but something more primitive. Her words didn't even sound like English, but it didn't matter. Her voice was a warm caress against his cheek, a brush of her lips on his neck, her fingers in his hair. He slumped back in the chair, his hands clutching the arm rests, his head reclined back and his eyes half lidded. His slow smile spoke volumes of pleasure. He ran his tongue slowly across his lips.

Her breathing slowed and deepened as her skin tingled. The brush of his coat across her breasts caused her to tremble with a yearning she'd never known before. She was weak in the knees. She wanted something she could not put words to and his dark eyes made promises to uncover every hidden desire she possessed. And still she sang on, her voice and the piano blending and melding into a pulsing, insistent rhythm.

She closed her eyes to the burning intensity of his gaze and her mind drew images of the two of them together in the cool darkness. His hands on her shoulders warmed her flesh despite the insulation of her shirt and his coat. Then he raised his hand to gather her mane of hair, tugging it back in his closed fist to lift her chin and expose her long white neck. She leaned back toward his warmth and shivered when he emitted a low growl of pleasure.

The sudden loud clash of sound from the piano startled Siobhan. Her eyes flew open and she turned to find Mr. Smith staring over at her in disapproval. She blushed and straightened up, surprised that she had adopted the same pose she'd imagined in her mind and even more surprised that it seemed she could still feel the heat where she imagined the stranger's hands had touched her. She turned back toward the crowd expecting to see him, but the audience erupted in wild applause, surging to their feet as if they were at some celebrity's concert.

She shaded her eyes and tried to find him among the dark rows at the back of the auditorium, but he was gone as if he had disappeared into thin air. Siobhan looked back toward Mr. Smith, as if he could explain where the stranger had gone, but he was standing up and applauding her like the rest of the audience. She frowned in confusion and shook her head as if trying to clear it.

Siobhan felt hands on her shoulders, and realized those who'd still been behind the curtain had come out to congratulate her. They were all smiling, their voices full of praise. Beth Howard swept her into a warm hug. "You were amazing," Beth told her quietly.

Siobhan stared at them, a tingle of fear running through her. Why were they acting this way? It was all so surreal, like she'd stepped into someone else's life. She stepped back, moving away from the crowd that was circling her, fending off the hands that still reached out to pat her arms. A bubble of panic rose inside her when reality didn't snap back into focus around her. What the hell was happening?

Her stumbling backward progress ended when she ran into someone behind her and warm hands grabbed her shoulders. "It's alright," Mr. Smith said softly. "Calm down."

Siobhan looked up at him in surprise. "But – they…" she trailed off. Her hand gestured toward the people around her, still smiling and congratulating her, seeming oblivious to her reaction.

Mr. Smith's hands tightened their grip on her shoulders. The power remaining inside her seemed to drain away at his touch, as if she'd been charged with electricity and he was grounded. He shrugged in response to her confusion, removing his hands from her shoulders. "They found your performance enthralling."

Siobhan felt empty and cold, but her heart beat slowed back to normal and she managed a weak smile for her fellow students as Mr. Smith encouraged them back behind the curtain. She bowed to the audience, still clapping and cheering for her, and then stumbled down the steps at the end of the stage. The people in the audience were watching her as she passed, heading up the side aisle toward the exit sign.

"She should perform professionally," one woman said to her companion.

"I've never heard anything like it," a man remarked.

Siobhan passed through the doors as quickly as she could, retreating to the quiet lobby. Her breath escaped in a long exhale and a shaky hand moved to push her hair back off her face. With each passing moment, her memory of what happened seemed to fade. She remembered singing, a pair of black eyes lit from within, and an audience captivated by her performance. Everything else seemed too dreamlike. She breathed in and caught that scent from the coat, again. Her eyes widened in fear.

Could there be some sort of drugs on the coat? Was it Brimstone or Bane she was smelling? What would such a thing do to her? She hurried across the lobby to the coat rack where her familiar green jacket hung. She slipped reluctantly out of the silk-lined wool jacket, holding it in her hands for a moment. She should return it to him personally, but she was afraid. In her entire life, nothing like this had ever happened to her. She thought she might be losing her mind. If she didn't have the jacket in her hands, she could almost convince herself that she'd imagined the dark stranger.

She reached out to hang the coat on the rack and frowned when she noticed one of the buttons seemed to be missing. Had she damaged his jacket during her performance? The buttons were large and a bright silver color. She was sure that under normal circumstances she'd have noticed it if it had fallen off on stage.

"Thank you," she whispered, letting her fingers slide over the soft wool a final time before she reached for her own coat. Her jacket felt dry, even warm to her touch. She slipped it on and zipped it up, pulling the hood up over her head. It felt normal and right to be back in hiding within her green darkness. With each passing moment she became more settled, more like her normal self. She sighed and headed back toward the auditorium, hoping to catch the last performances. Nothing would be announced tonight. The judges' results would be posted in their classroom tomorrow.

The audience attention was focused on the stage as Beth performed Genie in a Bottle from Christina Aguilera. It was very sexy, Beth combining her excellent voice with suggestive dancelike movements. "If you wanna be with me, baby, there's a price to pay…"

Siobhan's eyes swept the audience a last time, but the dark stranger was gone. She bit her lip, torn between relief and regret. She slumped into an empty seat in the back row. She closed her eyes and remembered him circling her like a large predator when he put his jacket on her. And while the memory sent a thrill of fear through her, it was nothing compared to the heady sense of power she'd felt when she'd seduced him with her voice.


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Readers: Thank you for continuing to follow this very OC fic. You will see more of the Hollows chars as the story unfolds, I promise.

Siobhan stared at her reflection in the polished metal surface that functioned as a crappy mirror in the bathroom at her high school. Her intense green-eyed stare scanned her image as if looking for the person she had been less than a week ago. There were so many little changes, but all of them were superficial and only surface deep. She hadn't really changed on the inside, had she? Was the acceptance, even the open friendship, of her fellow chorus members truly transforming her? Or was it something the dark stranger had done at the audition to change who and what she was on the inside?

She leaned back and regarded the girl before her. Gone was the familiar green jacket. Susan had insisted on taking her shopping over the weekend and bought her a new wardrobe, despite Siobhan's objections. The soft white sweater she wore today had a simple round neckline and long sleeves. It hung loose on her, without gathers, so she didn't feel like her large breasts were too noticeable. She liked the sheer whiteness of it that made her almost glow in the dim bathroom lights. It contrasted nicely with the black skort that ended above her knees and the black tights with red polka dots. She even got new black leather boots that laced up the front to just above her ankle.

She held a red scrunchy in her hand, but when she bundled her long reddish-blond hair back into a tail, she could clearly see her ears. She frowned as she ran her finger over the slightly pointed tip, and then dropped her hair back down to cover it. She should have gotten a red hat, instead. She hated her mutant ears. Ever since she could remember she'd tried to hide them, growing her hair out long, and never going to a stylist for a haircut or color. She touched up her light pink lipstick and decided that the new green eyeshadow she'd put on this morning enhanced her own natural eye color nicely.

She sighed. This reflection looked like someone who wanted to be noticed and admired. As long as Siobhan could remember the only people who seemed to pay her any attention were out to get something. She didn't have money, or connections. Everything seemed to tie back to the night of the audition. The whole experience had grown hazy in her mind, like a dream. She couldn't exactly remember what she'd done. But everyone who'd been there said she was exceptional. They didn't even complain when she was awarded the lion's share of the female solo parts for the Holiday performance. It was as if everything had changed that night.

The bathroom door banged open and four girls entered, Katy Campbell and her posse. Based on the look that appeared on her face when she saw her, Siobhan was confident that nothing had changed in her relationship with Katy, at least. "Oh, look, it's emo girl," Katy sneered. "I like your new disguise. Pretending to be human?"

Siobhan felt the tingling sensation inside her that always came with her anger, but the flow of power that accompanied it was much quicker to rush through her. Instead of lowering her eyes like she would have done last week, she glared back at Katy.

"Oooh, that's a scary look," Katy teased, but a passing look of fear crossed her face and she glanced at her friends for support.

"Get out of my way," Siobhan commanded, stepping closer to them when they continued to block the exit. Her golden-red hair seemed to lift in a breeze, tickling her neck.

"What's wrong with you?" one of the girls next to Katy asked, her voice tight with fear.

Siobhan slung her backpack higher on her shoulder. She wasn't much taller than the other girls, but their obvious fear gave her a sense of power. She stepped forward and they parted, backing away from her as if afraid she'd touch them. A faint smile curved up the corner of her mouth, showing off her dimple. "I might ask you the same question." And she walked between them and out the door.

A gust of wind met her outside the bathroom, chasing red and gold leaves into crunchy piles under foot. Siobhan stood for a moment in the warm afternoon sunshine, holding on to the tingling feeling inside her. For the first time in her life she felt powerful and in control. And while it was kind of freaky, she decided that she really, really liked it.

"Siobhan!" a voice called from down the corridor.

Charles Phillips was striding toward her with a sheepish smile on his face.

She stepped back and started to cross her arms over her chest protectively when she realized what she was doing. She called back the power that had seemed to drain from her as her fear and anxiety rose. She squared her shoulders and faced him with her chin up. "What's up?"

He looked her up and down, as if surprised, before he looked down at his feet. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She frowned, bending slightly to catch his gaze. "What are you talking about?"

He blew out a long breath and raised his brown eyed gaze to meet hers. "I've pretty much been a massive prick – sorry, jerk. I mean, I've been a jerk to you since you started coming here and, well, I'm really sorry." He flushed and looked back down at his shoes.

Siobhan cocked her head, her eyebrows raised. "Are you serious? You're not just messing with me, are you?"

He looked up again. "No, I swear. "

"Okay, then. I forgive you. But don't let it happen again."

He smiled gratefully and she decided he really did have a nice smile when he wasn't being a prick.

"So, I guess I'll see you in chorus tomorrow," she said, turning to go.

"Sure, but – Can I give you a ride home?"

"Huh?"

"You know, to make up for before. I've seen you take the bus. I thought you wouldn't mind."

"You have your own car?"

He dangled the keys he pulled out of his jeans pocket. "It's nothing special, but it's all mine."

Siobhan was on the verge of accepting when she remembered that it was Tuesday so she'd be headed out to Oakwood. "No, thanks. I'm headed to my job at Oakwood Farms. It's outside of town." She made a gesture in what she thought was the right direction.

Charles shrugged. "I'm still willing to drive you if you can give me directions."

She was shaking her head reluctantly. "It's ok. Some other time maybe-"

Charles stepped closer and looked down at her. "Please. Let me do this. I promise I'll behave myself. Besides, I owe you."

She considered for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "Okay, sure. Thanks."

He smiled happily, a mischievous glint in his eye to tell her she'd been played by someone used to manipulating others but she couldn't bring herself to be angry with him. They walked side by side toward the parking lot. The black Ford pickup had a shiny new car look and she guessed it was a sixteenth birthday present. A touch of jealousy rose inside her. What would it be like to have people who really loved you and went out of their way to make you happy?

He held the door for her and she slipped in to the grey leather interior, noting the mp3 player and the navigation system. Siobhan dropped her backpack to the floor between her feet, and then buckled herself in as Charles came around and got in the driver side.

"This is very nice," she said, one hand running over the soft leather bench seat between them.

He grinned as he turned over the engine and the car roared to life. He winced a bit at the volume of music coming from his stereo and turned it down considerably. He was careful to watch for foot traffic as other students leaving school crossed in front of cars as if they couldn't care less if a thousand pounds of steel was heading their way. More than one person noticed him leaving and waved or called out to him. He had his window down and waved back, but Siobhan left her side window up, suddenly nervous about being seen with him. She knew he was a player. Would the others assume her new popularity came from sleeping with him?

She glanced nervously at him, but Charles seemed perfectly at ease. He stopped at the stop sign at the end of the parking lot and looked back at her expectantly.

"What?" she asked, a little defensively.

He laughed softly. "Do you want to give me directions, or should I just drive around until I find it?"

"Oh, sorry, Oakwood Farm. It's off I-27…"

Charles leaned forward and typed the name in his navigation system. It immediately returned the location on a list. He glanced at her to make sure it was correct and then selected it from the list when she nodded. It spent a moment calculating where they were in relation to where the Farm was, then immediately provided directions for how to get there.

"That's pretty amazing."

"Yeah, I love gadgets," he responded, pulling out of the lot and following their virtual guide's instructions.

"Nickelback?" she asked about the song currently playing. She'd heard some of their songs, but definitely not in Susan's car. The current lyrics went something to the effect of liking a girl's pants around her feet and dirt on her knees while she's looking up at him. Siobhan blushed at the vivid imagery that brought to her mind.

"Yeah, do you like them?"

Siobhan shrugged. "Yeah, what I've heard. Susan doesn't let me mess with the radio in her car."

"You call your mom Susan?"

"She's not my mom," Siobhan growled defensively.

"Sorry. Step mom? My dad is on about his fourth marriage. Some of my step moms have been real pieces of work."

"No," Siobhan answered reluctantly. "She's just my latest foster parent."

"Oh." His one word response and her obvious discomfort with the topic brought the entire conversation to a screeching halt. They sat in an awkward silence as he navigated the city streets.

Siobhan played with the lace trimmed edge of her skirt. Maybe accepting the ride from him had been a huge mistake. Her thin veneer of normalcy was cracking and her freak was showing. How could he possibly understand what it was like to be her? She'd had a different foster family every few years because she never quite fit in. Nobody really wanted her. She was a human hot potato passed from one family to the next, and the older she got the harder it was to find anyone to take her. She was like a carton of milk getting close to its expiration date – pushed to the front of the refrigerator for the next sucker to take.

"So what do you do at this farm?"

Siobhan glanced over at Charles and his smile was encouraging. "I help take care of the horses." She couldn't stop the faint smile that thinking of them always brought to her face.

"Really? Do you ride?"

"Every chance I get."

"My dad owns some horses. Maybe we could go riding sometime."

"Maybe…" Siobhan couldn't help feeling surprised that he would want to spend more time with her. "I thought most humans tried to avoid leaving the city."

Charles laughed softly. "Yeah, my dad just rides in an indoor ring, but the facility has trails you can get to without too much effort. He took up the whole riding thing when he heard Trent Kalamack has horses."

"Kalamack sponsors Oakwood. A lot of his retired horses end up out there." If Charles' father was trying to impress Kalamack, Charles must know more about this very talked about man. "So who is he? Trent Kalamack. I hear the name everywhere. Susan practically drools when he's mentioned."

"Yeah, he has that effect on a lot of women. And some guys, too, although I've never heard that he swings that way. He almost got married to some chick from the west coast." Charles rolled up his window as they pulled on to the highway. "Well, you know he's running for mayor. He's been on the city council. He has more money than God, they say. He's supposedly handsome, because being rich and powerful isn't enough for one person. Lots of charity work. Gives property tours and does public appearances."

"Sounds too good to be true," Siobhan stated skeptically.

Charles' mischievous grin was back. "That's exactly what I think. There are a lot of rumors about a darker side to him. He was connected to the Witch Hunter murders a while back and a string of werewolf murders that got him arrested at his own wedding. But the guy is Teflon. Nothing ever seems to stick to him."

"He sounds like a real jerk."

"That's the weird part – he's not when you meet him. Sure, he's slick and all, but you can't help liking the guy. When he speaks, everyone listens. You sort of want to be his friend…" Charles words trailed off with a sense of confusion.

Siobhan shivered involuntarily. Charles' obvious confusion and undercurrent of uneasiness made it clear he thought there was something else going on. Could Kalamack "compel" people to like him? Isn't that what she had done the other night at the audition?

"I'm sorry, are you cold?" Charles asked, noticing her shiver. He leaned forward to adjust the AC, but she put out a hand to stop him.

"No. Just – someone is walking over my grave."

"Whoa – what?" He was glancing across at her while trying to keep his attention on the road. "What the hell does that mean?"

She shrugged, surprised by his strong reaction. "It's just an expression. You know, when you shiver for no reason."

"I've never heard of that. It's really creepy. Like you're already dead."

She opened her mouth to say more, to confess that she'd sometimes felt dead to the world. Like it wouldn't matter to anyone if she suddenly ceased to exist. That the afterlife might offer her comfort and companionship with her real parents when this life held only pain and loneliness. She clenched her fists and closed her mouth. She didn't have to be that person anymore. Something had unlocked a brighter future for her. She sighed. "It's just an old wives' tale," she said quietly.

They descended into another awkward silence. Siobhan crossed her legs and her foot jiggled as if it had a mind of its own. Her thoughts were spinning out to so many different places. But one thing was becoming clear to her. She wanted to meet this Kalamack person. She wanted to know if they had more in common.

"Siobhan." Charles said her name like he was testing how the word came out. She glanced over at him and he gave her a crooked smile. "The first time I saw it written down I thought it was pronounced see OH bah han. No way would I have guessed shi-VAWN."

She smiled at that. How many teachers had she forced to try to pronounce her name over the years. If you had to be saddled with an awkward name, you might as well get some enjoyment out of it. "It's Irish, I'm told. A form of Joan, like Joan of Arc."

"Yeah, not sure I'd want to be associated with someone who heard voices and was burned at the stake."

"Really? I'm flattered. I think she was a great heroine at a time when women had so little power. She inspired her followers with her words and her beliefs. Imagine a peasant girl leading an army of hardened war veterans to victory when they had experienced so many defeats."

"Yeah, but who knows if she was really human? Since the Turn, you have to question everything you thought you knew."

"What else could she have been?"

"A living vampire, a witch, an elf –"

"She would still have to be very brave to risk exposing her real identity to the world by becoming such a public figure…"

"Maybe she was hiding in plain sight, like in Assassin's Creed."

Siobhan laughed. "I think you're supposed to blend in with the crowd, not lead them."

"I'm just saying, it's possible." Charles slowed the car and turned onto the dirt road leading to Oakwood Farm.

"I suppose." Siobhan's eyes wandered to the view outside the window. She had gone online after the audition to see about her theory that there were Inderlanders still trying to blend in with humans. What she discovered was a range of opinions, from the fanatic paranoid humans (they're everywhere!) to the dismissive Inderlanders (humans think too much of themselves – why would we even want to be like them now that we don't have to be to survive). She found she leaned toward the latter opinion, but she couldn't help wondering if there weren't some Inderlanders whose identity was best kept secret. Perhaps they had abilities that posed a threat to humans and fellow Inderlanders alike.

The horses in the pasture the bordered the road must be feeling frisky in the cooler weather, because several of them raced along beside the car as it slowed on approach to the barn. Siobhan's eyes tracked them as the dappled afternoon sun played across their powerful bodies. It looked like she was going to have her hands full bringing them in today.

They pulled up in front of the inside arena. Siobhan was surprised to see no one around. She unbuckled her seat belt and turned to say goodbye to Charles, but he'd already slipped out of the driver's side and come around to open her door. He stood a bit too close to the opening, so when she slid out she was practically nose to nose with him. Well, more like nose to chin given the difference in their heights. She breathed in the scent of his cologne. It had a fresh, clean scent, like soap. She held very still as he leaned in to her. She felt a thrill of anticipation light through her, but all he did was lift her backpack from where she'd left it on the floorboard and hand it to her.

"This wasn't so bad, was it?" he inquired softly, still standing very close.

"No," she whispered back, as if afraid to admit it to herself.

"Good, I'd like to do it again sometime, then, if that's ok with you."

"Sure." And now she felt trapped and awkward, unsure of herself and what he planned to do. She was surprised to feel the tingle of power inside her, responding to her anxiety rather than her anger.

Then he hugged her. She started as he pulled her forward against him, but her backpack was still between them so very little of her body contacted his. Her hands hung at her side for a moment, then came up slowly to rest against his upper back. Almost as if that was his cue, he released her and stepped back.

"Here's my cell number." He handed her a business card for his father's company with a phone number scrawled on the back. She couldn't help wondering how long he'd had that prepared for her, or whether he kept a million of them on him for every girl he was interested in. "Later."

He made sure she was clear and then shut the passenger side door before going around to the driver's side and climbing back in. She stepped back as he made a slow circle around her to turn the car back the way they had come. His eyes followed her the whole time and that mischievous smile played across his lips. With a jaunty wave, he drove off down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust and fall leaves in his wake. She could hear the music from where she stood so he must have turned it back to his normal volume. It was "Bring Me to Life" from Evanescence. The song she'd performed at the audition. Or thought she'd performed… Intended to perform?

"Is that your boyfriend?" a voice asked behind her causing her to jump out of her skin.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Siobhan spun around with her hand over her heart. "God, Eric, you scared me!"

Eric grinned back at her. "So, is he?"

"What?" Siobhan asked, and then cursed the fact that she sounded defensive.

"Your boyfriend?"

"No! No way."

Eric's grin widened.

"Stop, I'm serious."

Eric shrugged as he headed back toward the barn. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he said over his shoulder.

She followed him. "I'm not embarrassed. I'm just – confused." Her words trailed off.

Eric stopped and looked back at her with a frown. "Something wrong?"

Siobhan wrung her hands, staring down at her boots. Tension spiraled high in her and she felt the sense of power flood into her.

"Siobhan?" Eric's voice was surprised. She looked up to see him looking at her in the strangest way. He stepped closer to her. "Are you tapping a line?" he asked quietly.

She tipped her head and frowned in confusion. "What?"

He reached up toward her hair that was floating as if in a breeze. But there was no wind today. He lowered his hand to her shoulder and she felt her power surge toward him like electricity seeking ground. They both gasped.

"Wow," he whispered in surprise, pulling his hand back quickly.

"What was that?" she asked, eyes wide in distress.

Eric glanced around. "Come back into the barn with me. We can talk more there."

Siobhan had to practically run to keep up with his longer strides as he headed quickly into the barn. She tried to stay even with him so she could see his expression. He looked like he was puzzling something out.

They stopped outside the feed room and he went about meticulously measuring out the ingredients for a bran mash. Several moments passed and she started to wonder if he'd forgotten their previous discussion.

"Eric?" Siobhan couldn't hide the fear in her voice.

He looked up at her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just think better when I've got something to do with my hands." He set the bucket on a counter.

"What did you mean 'tapping a line'?"

"Ley lines. You must have heard of them before."

"The magical power source for some kinds of witches?"

"Sort of. But more than just witches can use them. Humans can, too."

"You said you'd teach me if I wanted to learn…"

"It would seem someone else beat me to the punch."

Siobhan shook her head again in confusion. "I don't understand."

Eric moved closer to her. "Did you feel that jolt when I touched you?"

"Yes."

"That was ley line energy passing from you to me."

"But that doesn't make any sense! How could I do something like that?"

Eric scratched his head. "I dunno. I've never heard of humans who were just automatically attuned to lines before. Some witches seem to be sensitive to them at an early age, but even that is kind of rare." He poked her shoulder with a finger, as if afraid of getting shocked again. "Nothing. You must have let go of the line."

"How can I let go of something I never knew I had in the first place?"

"If you're naturally sensitive to ley lines, you'd be able to pull on their power when you're under stress – like if you feel threatened or angry." He scratched the stubble of his beard. "It's just – it's weird that I never noticed before. It's like you've become more attuned to them or something." Eric steepled his fingers. "Your boyfriend isn't a witch, is he?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Siobhan answered automatically. "But, no. He's not a witch. Why?"

Eric coughed and looked embarrassed. "Well…"

Siobhan crossed her arms and tapped her boot.

"Sometimes people willingly exchange their stored energy."

"Why would they do that?"

Another long pause as he shifted his stance and his gaze away, obviously uncomfortable. She started to think he wasn't going to answer when he quietly responded. "Because it feels really good for both of them," Eric answered, staring down at his own boots. And the way he said 'good' left little to the imagination.

Siobhan's eyes widened. "Oh." How could something like that produce pleasure like sex? Then she remembered the night of the audition. The feeling of power soaring inside her, and then pushing that out, pouring it out over her audience, like she wanted to light the dark stranger with her power. The tingling rush she had felt was like a promise of things to come. "Oh, crap."

"You've done a power pull?"

"No! I mean, I don't think so – I…" Her anxiety was spiking again, drawing power in to fill her up again.

"You're tapping a line right now."

"How do you know?"

"You look – different. And your hair – floats in the breeze of the Ever After."

Siobhan put her hands up to smooth her hair down. She looked up at him, fear dilating her pupils. "Make it stop."

Eric shrugged. "I can't. All I can do is draw off your excess. But if you stay connected to the line, you could fry us both."

"Take it," Siobhan insisted, pushing her splayed hands into his chest, as if handing him a dangerous animal. This time she felt the surge pour through her into him, but instead of a quick jolt of energy, it was like they were both connected to a live wire. She gasped and her back arched as she rose up on the balls of her feet. She didn't understand how it could hurt and feel good at the same time. Her hands clenched the soft flannel of his shirt, but she couldn't let go. She couldn't stop the flow pouring up through her into him.

For his part, Eric leaned back against the counter, panting for air, his eyes lidded and his face grimacing. One of the horses in a nearby stall neighed loudly and kicked the wall. With what looked like an enormous effort, Eric brought his hands up to grasp her wrists and pushed her away. "Stop," he hissed.

Siobhan slumped to her knees, then curled into a ball when he let go of her wrists. "I'm so sorry. Eric, I'm so sorry. I can't control it. I don't want it. Please help me."

"Eric?" It was Mary's voice coming from outside the barn.

"Eric?" Siobhan echoed, afraid he'd leave without telling her how to stop this thing she was doing.

"Coming!" he called, his voice rough. He leaned down over Siobhan. "It's okay, Siobhan. I'm alright. I think I can help you, but it's going to take some time. Pull yourself together while I go find out what Mary wants. I'll be back. I promise."

Siobhan noticed he didn't touch her on the way out. She couldn't help the flood of hot tears. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked with guilt and pain. She must have really hurt him. What was wrong with her? She was an even bigger freak than she imagined. What would happen when her stepmother, Susan, found out? She'd be kicked out for sure! And she was only just beginning to like it here. What was she going to do now?

She could hear their voices approaching down the length of the barn, and as horrible as she felt for what she'd done to Eric, she was horrified at the idea of Mary knowing. Would Eric tell her? Why wouldn't he? She was obviously a danger to the people around her. She needed to get out of here.

She staggered to her feet and scrambled over the bottom half of the dutch door that opened from the feed room to the outside, afraid that opening it would give away the fact that she was leaving. She tried to catch her breath and collect her runaway thoughts. The longer she stood there, the more she could feel her anxiety draw in the power of the ley line. She glanced both ways, but saw no one else out here. She brushed shakily at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, trying to decide what to do next. Her eyes picked out the old timers in their pasture and she ran toward them, seeking the comfort they'd always brought her in the past.

As she ran, she felt the power humming inside her, almost like a musical note. It seemed to give strength to her legs and made her movements more graceful. She felt like she was skimming over the ground. She stopped thinking and just went with it, let it become a part of her. She vaulted over the fence around the pasture with ease. She finally slowed her pace as she approached the horses, afraid of spooking them. When she stopped to let them approach her, she noticed the hum had dropped away to background noise. Eric was right. It did seem to come and go with her emotions.

A big red head pushed into her chest and Holly's soft lips brushed her hand, and then quested into her pocket, looking for treats. She brought her hands up to stroke the mare's cheeks and neck. She didn't want to think anymore. She didn't want to be afraid or angry. She didn't want to hurt anyone. But she didn't know how to make it so she was always this calm and at peace. She laid her head against Holly's forehead and sighed.

The other horses came to her in turn, brushing their big heads against her, snuffling her with their soft, warm noses. She passed through them and continued to walk deeper into the pasture toward the treeline, looking for Shaitan. He'd always seemed to know when she was in the pasture before, but she saw no sign of his distinctive red and white coat. She followed the fence into the deepening shadows of dusk. The other horses went back to their spot in the sun, closer to the barn.

When she saw the break in the fence, she stared at it for several moments, trying to understand how it could have happened. The cross beams had been neatly pulled from their support pole and the chain link had been cut in a straight line so it coiled back on itself in a roll. She could see how the ground had been churned up by horse's hooves and booted feet. A zing of fear lit through her and she turned to run back to the barn and tell them that someone had broken into the pasture and was stealing the horses. Then a distant and familiar horse's scream cut through the darkening shadows of the woods beyond the fence.

"Shaitan," she breathed. Then she was moving, but not toward the barn. She was running into the woods, following his angry cry. She welcomed the hum of power that filled her this time. It seemed to pulse in time to her heartbeat and pushed her adrenaline rush higher, making it feel like she flowed through the shadows effortlessly. She could hear the sounds of a struggle up ahead, but she couldn't see anything through the brush and trees. She clambered on top of a large rock nearby hoping for a better view.

There, several hundred feet away, she could make out someone trying to lead Shaitan with a lasso around his neck, but the horse was circling the person, tugging at the rope with his powerful neck and lashing out with his front hooves. She slid backwards off the rock the way she had climbed up, but backed into something warm and solid.

"Hello, sweet thing." The voice was low and taunting.

She turned to see a tall man standing behind her in some sort of black body suit that was both form fitting and easy to move in. She tried to scramble away from him, but he had his hands out to the sides and her back was to the rock. She couldn't see his face except his eyes because he wore a dark ski mask. His eyes looked dangerous. He wasn't holding any sort of weapon in his open hands, but the sense of threat from him was clear.

Fear surged through her, feeding the adrenaline rush she'd already experienced with a fresh dose that edged on panic. Her hands, which were pressed against the cold stone behind her, seemed to draw power from it even as an answering flood coursed up through her feet.

"You must be Siobhan."

She gasped. They'd set this trap to catch her and she'd bumbled right into it. But who would even want her and why? She leapt at him, trying to bring her knee up into his groin, but he easily deflected it with his rock hard thigh. She'd expected that, so she turned slightly and dragged the side of her booted foot down his other shin and stomped on his instep as hard as she could. He cursed viciously, but it didn't slow him down enough, because his hand snagged her arm as she tried to spin out around him.

He snarled and released her almost immediately when her power surged to her defense and pulsed into him like a burning inner fire. But she was staggered by the effect, too, and fell backward into a pile of leaves, hitting her head against a rock. She saw stars flash before her eyes. Please don't pass out, she begged her body.

The man threw himself down on top of her, taking advantage of her obvious dazed state. He straddled her hips and pulled something out of a small pouch at his waist that looked like a tie for fastening garbage. He grabbed one of her wrists and she willed the power to flood him again, but this time he seemed to be ready for her. He drew her power off like a sponge soaking up water, drawing the fire through her and then pushing it all back out into her so she cried out in agony and writhed under him.

"Two can play it that game, little bitch," he snarled, staring down into her face.

Siobhan moaned and felt sick to her stomach. She closed her eyes, unwilling to see the malice in his eyes. She could feel him reaching across her body to collect her other wrist. If she let him tie her up her chances of escape would drop to practically zero. She let the rest of her body lie unresisting beneath him, but her loose hand scrambled in the leaves until she came up with a fist sized rock. She brought it up swiftly, crashing into the side of his head even as he sat gloating in apparent victory above her.

He was knocked off balance enough for her to wriggle out from beneath him, but she couldn't get to her feet quickly with her head still spinning, so she crawled away from him, scrambling over rocks, leaves and loose soil, her fingernails breaking, her fingertips and knees torn and bleeding. She screamed when she felt his large hand circle her calf above her boot. She kicked back with the other foot, trying to hit his face, but all she managed to do was get her other leg trapped in his other hand. He yanked her back toward him while she thrashed and struggled. He stood upright and pulled her completely off the ground in an amazing show of strength.

A fresh wave of nausea enveloped her as the blood rushed to her injured head. She dangled down by his ankles, feeling completely helpless. Then, with a cry of rage and frustration, she latched on to his leg with all her strength and bit down on the meaty part of his calf.

He bellowed in pain and smashed her head down into the ground, but she hung on like a tenacious rat, praying he would drop her before she passed out. His blood filled her mouth with a taste like wine and cinnamon and she gagged, her mind and body rebelling against what she was forced to do to survive. He brought her head crashing down into a rock instead of the softer soil and leaves and she let go as the world spun, flashed and darkened. He tossed her aside when she stopped struggling and bent over to check his injury. She lay panting in a pile of autumn leaves, trying to recapture control of her body. She couldn't tell if her vision was dimming from her injury or if true night had finally fallen.

She could no longer hear the sounds of Shaitan struggling with his captor and hoped he had gotten away. She heard the crunch of footsteps through leaves and assumed the other person involved in this – kidnapping? – was approaching.

"Now is that any way to treat a young lady?" a cultured British voice inquired. It sounded like him – her dark stranger from the other night, but she couldn't even lift her head to see if it was. She thought she must be delusional already. How could he have just appeared in the nick of time?

"Who the hell are you?" asked the man she'd been fighting with.

"What a very appropriate question…"

She heard the sounds of a struggle, brief and violent, then saw a body smack into a tree about fifty feet away with a bone jarring thud. She could hardly make out the form as it slumped to the ground and didn't move again. She couldn't seem to focus on anything so far away. She felt like she was drifting.

"Are all red heads this much trouble, or only the ones I associate with?" the familiar accented voice asked rhetorically.

"Hey!" a new voice shouted. She heard light footsteps running toward them. "Who the hell are you? What did you do to Vim?"

"Would you like me to demonstrate?" her rescuer asked in a low, dangerous tone. She heard a brief scream that was abruptly cut off.

Darkness pressed in around her, somehow warm and comforting. Impossibly, her dark stranger had appeared from nowhere and rescued her. She wondered if he was her guardian angel. She saw his grey slacks and dark grey suede shoes approach her. She frowned in confusion. Who wore suede loafers into a forest? Why was he wearing the same outfit she'd seen him in the other night? Why did she care? A faint smile quirked her lips.

He crouched down in front of her, but she couldn't lift her head to see him. She just wanted to drift off to sleep. "Siobhan Katherine O'Brien. I guess I don't need to ask how you're feeling, love." He brushed back her hair gently from one of her several head injuries, his gloved hand came away covered in blood. His hand disappeared from her line of sight. "Hmmm, delicious," he whispered throatily.

She shivered and moaned softly, unable to stay focused. Her mind drifted away and the darkness rose to claim her as she felt his arms reach out to enfold her.


End file.
